An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

nostalgic for times gone by  a place that  no longer exists  I cannot show  my kids  where I grew up time marches on like leaves that grow in the spring and fall in the autumn and dandelions that drift on the wind only to disappear  my heart is sore  that a piece  of my history  has been taken  away from me an exists only in my own memories

Crushed can served its purpose  taken to be melted down  reconstituted  changed for a newer  different life  a physical change  to house another item but still made to fit the same role and to be broken down into yet another form again  not so different  from our cycle of life  isn't it?

 a wizard arrives  when fate ordains it  neither early nor late  or by chance nor accidental sometimes bombastic  others quietly with nature as their guide or tomes with their hands prove you are worthy or just a good instinct of your potential either way they stand by your side  ready to teach  a reluctant hero

Face never shown  as the earth turns  undiscovered country  here be dragons with the rabbit maiden in a forbidding tower always dark  mysterious why won't you turn only show one face in the sun's light what are you hiding? when will we see the features  you cannot show you will not reveal that are hidden to us  since eternity

Cauliflower trees  white blooms  floret  of flowers  that look like bunches of white  snow on branches Cotton candy trees pink blooms almost like cherry but not quite soft petals rain like a crimson carpet My daughter points and laughs at the memory of a young girl with an imaginative mind naming the trees. 

the geese are angry chase him from  the parking lot they're not to be crossed this is their turf never mind that they are the squatters like a squad of elite warriors patrol their territory and don't invade their space the borders tend to be flexible with the seasons you can lay siege to their castle and just stare at each other across an invisible line.